Nightlife
by WhiteKitsuneKnight
Summary: Life is a spectacular thing; you might not think someone who fights for a living agrees. But it is; all the ways it presents itself? It's so complex and diverse. Sometimes though, his condition makes him wonder if he should even be a fighter. It's a give-and-take thing if you don't want to be blood-thirsty. (SSE; pre-"A Tank In The Wastelands")


Hooray I'm not dead! :D  
It has once again been ages, so here's a basic rundown:

-Graduating happened

-Back into Smash Brothers

-Who's ready for college  
(answer: absolutely not me)

That is all.

And with that, you may enjoy!

* * *

It's a windy night in the wastelands.  
Sand devils dance about, and the desert's aridity is no more forgiving, even when it has cooled down.

Marth and Ike, the two humans he's teamed up with, have nestled down on the floor of the cave, huddling away from the wind.

He sits up beside them, watching to make sure that the subspace isn't advancing.  
Every now and again, unsure if it's to calm his ever ticking brain or not, he looks down at them.

They are big for children, yet so helpless.  
The Human species something that piques his never-ending curiosity about the world; these two humans are the equal in age of a pubescent pup of his kind. But even a pup a third of their age could fend for itself just as well, if not better, and without being taught.

How _fragile_ humans are.  
How fragile, yet amazing.

...Meta knight has a quiet, but deep appreciation for life.  
Just the way Ike and Marth's chests inflate and deflate as they breathe; the way their eyelids flutter and they shift slowly but surely in their sleep.

The intelligence and complexity of their design fascinates him.

But in the end, things are logical; point-blank to him. He's not a romantic, and nothing is so without purpose.  
This is why he is so distant; so unfeeling to everything and everyone around.  
His appreciation for life isn't even without selfish reason, because of things he can or cannot take for granted.

He'd value life less if he could produce it.

Marth and Ike, prone in sleep, would probably not be as stunning and precious if the massive internal welts where his testes should be didn't exist.

If he never had to consider quitting the military after the surgery rendered him infertile…because what is the _point_ of being a warrior then? What is the point of destroying life when you cannot create it?

And that fear of taking without giving haunted him so badly he almost ended it there  
…but only almost.

Ike's face twinges in his sleep, and Meta knight fails to keep from very faintly running a glove through the tips of his tangled hair.  
He rustles a bit more, and Meta knight pulls back, careful not to snag his hand in the boy's indigo locks.  
Small, tired eyes crack open the slightest and glance up to meet Meta knight's vacant yellow ones.

"Go back to sleep" Meta knight commands with a rumble like distant thunder.

Ike says nothing, but his eyes slowly trail to the ceiling of the cave.

In spite of his order not being heeded, he doesn't want to wake up Marth, so Meta knight ignores Ike's darting eyes, and returns his focus to the wastelands outside.

"…Meta?"

Meta knight looks back down at Ike, who has finally closed his eyes.

"…were you playin' with my hair?"

"Did you feel something?"

"It felt like y' were…" Ike murmurs, voice slurred from exhaustion.

Meta knight says that whatever it was ―likely some kind of desert insect― he'll make sure it leaves Ike alone.

"It wasn't _bad_ feelin'; I just wanted to know…thanks though…" Ike gurgles before nestling down again.

Meta knight's attention draws back to Ike, who very faintly snores with every breath he takes.

It's so mundane, yet wonderful.

The tender image of two trusting young humans curled up by his side; the intense devotion and loyalty he felt to them ―however sudden―; the smell of sweat that they have worked up as a team. Mumbling sloppy conversations on three hours of sleep that let his reputation as a stoic swordsman teeter-totter; none of these can heal the scars that declare him sterile.

But they can do something even better than make him forget.  
They can make him accept their existence.

As he stays watch, feeling an abrupt pang of compassion for Marth, who has taken to shivering; he is aware that he has a special kind of conscience.

He isn't a juggernaut.

He is discriminate with the life he takes; only if by ending it, he can preserve it in another sense.

This is what keeps him in check.  
This is why he only almost ended it.  
…Because he learned that protecting life is as valuable as creating it.

* * *

Ah, something a little hopeful; I know a lot of stories about infertility are extremely sad, but I'm a happy person gosh darn it and I want other people to be happy too and sad endings don't mean good stories!

*rant over*

That's basically it; feel free to review if you have any advice or helpful tips.  
Thank you greatly for your time!


End file.
